


That I Might Drink, and Leave the World Unseen

by JEAikman



Category: Rivers of London - Ben Aaronovitch
Genre: Book 3: Whispers Under Ground, Gen, Lesley & Nightingale watch over him in their own ways, all peter does in this is sleep in his hospital bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-07
Updated: 2015-02-07
Packaged: 2018-03-10 23:56:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3307997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JEAikman/pseuds/JEAikman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little missing scene in <i>Whispers Under Ground</i>. Because all we got was an offscreen mention of Nightingale visiting Peter in hospital, and I didn't feel that was quite enough.</p><p>Title is a line from John Keats' <i>Ode To A Nightingale</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	That I Might Drink, and Leave the World Unseen

> _I've never been one of those people who tell everyone they're fine and try to climb out of their hospital bed. Feeling as shit as I did is your body's way of telling you to lie the fuck down and take in fluids – preferably intravenously – so that's what I did._

    * Ben Aaronovitch, _Whispers Under Ground,_ p. 318




 

> _'Nightingale turned up,' she said. 'He was hoping to shout at you a bit to show his affection ~~in a gruff manly and safely non-gay way~~ but you were asleep so he just sort of milled around for a while and then off he went'_

      * Ben Aaronovitch, _Whispers Under Ground_ p. 325




* * *

 

Lesley phones him as soon as she knows where Peter is. He assures her that he will join her at the hospital. His heart is somewhere in his throat at the moment and driving when he is this... wound up, Peter would call it, is not the best idea, but he does it anyway because the Jag is fast and he needs to see for himself - it's not that he doesn't trust Lesley's word, but knowing second-hand is not the same as seeing for himself.

 

He arrives at the room number Lesley had given him (it is not a problem to locate, since this is where he was put after being shot) and when he opens the door it's to Lesley jumping up to put her face mask back on. Nightingale has the good grace to avert his gaze whilst she does so. 

“Apologies, Lesley. I should have knocked first.” Mask on, Lesley turned to him and shook her head.

“It's alright sir.” She replies. “I'm sure you were too worried about that idiot to think about anything else.” He's almost sure that there is a hint of resentment there, but doesn't press.

His eyes turn to the sleeping form on the bed. There are cuts and bruises on Peter's arms that he can see, none of them particularly worrying, and the man appears to be fast asleep.

 

“Is he alright?” Nightingale asks, and Lesley rolls her eyes.

“He's just fine, sir. Minor cuts and scrapes, possible exposure, but mostly he's just exhausted. They were worried about concussion but ruled it out. He was a bit dehydrated too, but that's what IV fluids are for.” Nightingale nods, though he only has the barest knowledge of modern medicine. He takes the spare seat and settles to watch over Peter. They remain in quiet company for some minutes before Lesley stands. Nightingale looks up, having almost dozed off himself for a moment.

 

“I'm off to get a cuppa – you want anything?” She asks. It's thoughtful of her, but Nightingale declines. She leaves, and he watches Peter. Getting the call that his apprentice was in the hospital had spooked him. Of course, he realised that medicine had come a long way since his youth, nigh on a century ago, but something in him just couldn't get away from equating hospitals with death. Peter isn't supposed to be hurt at all. He'd sworn to protect him when he took him on as an apprentice in the first place. And when he thinks how Peter would have died had he not been found? Alone in the dark with nothing but dust and sewer water for company? Ended up as rat fodder? He could not have forgiven himself if that had happened.

"Why does he never think things through?" Nightingale thinks aloud, rather mournfully. "All that time for science - no room for common sense."

It is likely for the better that Peter is asleep. Nightingale cannot be angry with him for endangering himself whilst he slumbers so peacefully. Not that they won't have words later, because Nightingale is nothing if not protective of his friends, and scolding Peter might just make him feel like he's doing something useful. For the moment, he is stuck feeling useless. He leans forward to squeeze the sleeping man's hand, and gets up to leave. He looks up and sees Lesley leaning against the doorway – he thinks she may be smirking, underneath her mask.

 

“Secret's safe with me, sir.” She tells him. Nightingale raises a brow, and she puts up her hand in mock surrender.

“I have to go now. Look after him for me?” He can trust Peter's care to her for now, there are other matters which need seeing to, now that he's satisfied his own need to see with his own eyes the 

“Hey, I did just fine keeping him out of trouble till you came along with your magic and filled his head with all sorts of nonsense, sir. Of course I'll look after him.”

Nightingale gives her a nod of acknowledgement and sweeps out of the room, graceful as a swan. Lesley shakes her head and looks back down to the sleeping patient. 

“You'd better wake up soon, you big nerd – the Nightingale needs someone to sing to.” She does, however, resist the temptation to flick him on the forehead to wake him up - it was a bit early to start tormenting him. She'd have plenty of opportunity for that later - after she'd wheedled a story out of him.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Don't know how happy I am with this, tbh, but it's a starting point.  
> Anyway, my first fic for this fandom so be gentle.  
> And any of my subscribers who decided to look at this and don't know this series of books, go read them like now they're amazing.


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